


aether, aether, aether

by azureforest



Series: ffxivwrite 2019 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Blood, Demonic Possession, Gen, Voidsent (Final Fantasy XIV), a tantalus situation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 05:30:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20577266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azureforest/pseuds/azureforest
Summary: 1. voracious.there's something truly monstrous about a voidsent that cannot feed.|| ffxiv write 2019.





	aether, aether, aether

**Author's Note:**

> yes, i'm taking a crack at this. ill shove the rest into a single piece, so i wont clog up anything! first piece is in a separate entry, because the subject matter's darker than intended.
> 
> there's disordered eating, though it isn't voluntary. tread safely, everyone!

_ aetheraetheraether_, the creature snarls, green hair tangled and matted in their face, their teeth covered in blood running still from a gaping maw- Whatever had last met its demise at the thing’s hands lay mangled at their bare feet, dirty toes digging into the soil of the Shroud. They snap at the air, once, twice, trying to catch the vestiges of _ life _ that drift through their fingers.

They laugh, a little hysterically, the high, sweet voice of a young man. Oh, how they starve. They are starved. Starving. Oh, they are 

so very _ hungry_.

But the aether, aether, aether, flows through their fingers uselessly like sands through an hourglass, like water through the cracks, like, like, like- They remember, but they do not, shaking and laughing and screaming in a single pitiful knot. The boughs overhead encase them, taunting, taunting as the animal’s death throes, the supernova of their soul floats out of reach.

Oh, they are so hungry. So very hungry.

But this useless vessel cannot, cannot cannot CANNOT--

A shriek tears its way out of their lungs, and the figure slumps over, shaking and quivering, drool dribbling from their lips. Oh, having sweet, sweet aether dangled in front of their face, with every kill, every squirrel, diremite, ladybug, opo-opo screaming and crying in their too-gentle hands, only for it to be yanked away again and again and again

They cannot sate it. They cannot sate it. Their soul yawns wide between the mortal aether they are entangled in, primal voracity at odds with a pure inability to just take, take, take.

They cannot sate it. Blue eyes roll to the heavens, silhouette twisting backwards in the moonlight. Footsteps crunch towards them, wary, quiet. The creature remains unmoving.

“Oi, kid, are you alright?”

There’s a long pause- A pair of legs stop in periphery, crouching down, reaching out a hesitant hand until the person sees the absolute mess of blood and mud and viscerae caked on the creature’s skin, hair, ragged clothes. The figure pauses, green eyes wide. _ Run_, the void shrieks, _ runrunrun little mortal, precious mortal delicious mortal I WILL CONSUME YOU LET ME HAVE YOU LET ME HA- _

“_No_,” a soft voice creaks, quietly, cracked and breaking from weeks of screaming and raving. The miqo’te- yes, the miqo’te is the one with the green eyes- hovers, uncertain. Concerned. The creature-person coughs, weakly, head dropping forwards like a weight, and looks at his red hands.

“Oh,” he squeaks, crumpling a bit. The miqo’te’s hands dart out to stabilise him. The void roils under his skin, dulled like looking through a foggy glass- He makes a raw noise, moves to rub the blood off his hands in grass, likewise stained, drenched, drowned. And rubs, and rubs, and rubs. It won’t come off. Why won’t it come off? He didn’t- That wasn’t--

The void rears. Malevolent thoughts stab him in the gut, and he topples over sideways in a way so abrupt the miqo’te woman hovering over him cannot quite keep him from falling. He curls up, shivering, a young midlander boy caught in a long, long, painfully long moment of carnality. Gasps for air for just a moment.

A brief, shivering pause passes in the little clearing. “I’m hungry.” he mutters, unthinkingly, tears pricking at his eyes. _hungerhungerhunger_ scratches at the back of his head, crawls up his throat, into his eyes. She still scoops him up easily, disregarding the stench of death coming from him in waves, how much taller he already is than her.

Sixteen summers, she estimates. The boy cannot remember.

The voidsent throttled in his chest screams.

**Author's Note:**

> both of these are ocs i haven't talked about much yet, haha. the midlander's hael, he's unfortunately sharing a body with a voidsent named siobhan from when his father attempted to outsmart a pact and messed up, instead. the miqo is mhalin, aelin's sister who likes doing good recklessly!


End file.
